


Den of Iniquity: Two Wolves and One Empty Bunker

by Uratha



Series: Route 666: The Road to a Cure [3]
Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha Jackson Whittemore, Jackson and Stiles are Brothers, Jackson is a Winchester, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-22 17:20:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4843877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uratha/pseuds/Uratha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With two of the three Winchesters away, Dean is left alone, for the first time, really, to get to know Derek.  Still adjusting, reluctantly, to being a werewolf himself, the two are mated for life.  That is, unless Dean finds a way to reverse what the bite has done.  If he does, though, what will that mean for the born werewolf who's in love with him?  Those questions will undoubtedly arise.  Some might even get answers, but for now, the two men aren't facing the end of the world.  Without crises to keep them distracted, they're left with those questions, plus a little love and lust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We Have the Whole Place to Ourselves?

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of relationship feels plus the beginnings of smut-lite. I kind of like the idea of the two werewolf Alphas having some alone time without any world-ending threats for a bit. I haven't decided if this will go full-on, shameless smutty or not. If it does, it will be my first attempt. I'd be curious to hear what people would like to read, to be honest, so PLEASE let me know! This story will take place at the same time as two other stories I'm working on (one Sam, one Jackson).

“You sure you don’t want me to come with you, Sammy?” Dean asked.

His brother shook his head. “I’m just checking up on a lead about a possible werewolf that doesn’t match anything else we’ve ever run across. Honestly, the eyewitness accounts are so hit or miss that it doesn’t sound like anything at all. Just marking it off the list.”

“If you need something…,” the eldest Winchester began, the worry evident upon his face.

Sam smiled, “Then I’ll call. I’ll be _fine_. Besides, you and Derek haven’t had any alone time since we left the Gates. Hell, you haven’t really had any since we left Beacon Hills.”

Dean’s eyebrow waggled. “We’ve had alone time.”

“You’ve had sex,” Sam corrected. “I think it’s time you two got a chance to really get to know one another since you’re….”

“ _Mated_ , Sammy. You can say it,” Dean finished for him without hesitation. “Whether or not I’m a werewolf when we come out the other side of this, how I feel about him won’t change. Sure, the whole mated thing might not apply without the supernatural side, but I do know this—I love him. I love him, Sammy, and you know how often I use that word.”

Sam nodded. “I know. And for what it’s worth, I’ve never heard you mean it more. I won’t pretend that all of this still isn’t weird as Hell, but I like Derek, and I like what he does to you.”

Dean smirked. “So do I.”

“Not like that,” Sam grimaced. “I like the side he brings out of you. You’re not bouncing from case-to-case looking for a thrill. You’re not miserable. You’re genuinely happy. And as far as de facto brothers-in-law go, despite the gruff exterior, he’s a good one. That’s why I’m going to go off and leave the Bunker for you two to befoul in whatever unspeakable ways you see fit.”

The older Winchester rolled his eyes. Then a thought occurred to him. “Jackson’s going with you?”

Sam shook his head. “He’s gone to head back to Beacon Hills for a while to visit Stiles. He’s got another brother he needs to get to know, remember?”

“That one,” Dean smiled. “He’s a character. We’ve known some odd ducks over the years, but I don’t think we’ve ever met anything like him.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “He looks out for those he cares about to the point of being reckless, almost suicidal. He may only be our brother’s brother, but he’d fit into our family tree all too well.”

“What are you trying to say?” Dean asked, feigning insult before smiling. “I guess Mom wasn’t the only woman who kept Dad on his toes.”

Sam’s face grew grim at the mention of Claudia Stilinski. The change in expression wasn’t lost on Dean. “What is it?”

“Ask Derek about it… about her,” Sam replied. “See what Stiles has told him. It’s too much for me to get into right now. I want to get on the road before it gets too late.”

Dean’s countenance grew grim, but he simply nodded. “Where are you headed anyway, in case I need to do that cavalry thing?”

“Portland,” he replied. “I’ll only be gone a few days.”

 

When Derek walked back into the Bunker, he was carrying two armfuls of grocery sacks. He had a confused look on his face, like he was about to ask something, but the question was stifled when Dean walked over and kissed him. When the Hunter pulled away, the pureblood has his eyes closed and was wearing a dumbstruck smile. “What was that for?”

“Is that a complaint?” Dean asked.

Derek shook his head. “Not in the least.”

“Mind if I do it again?” Dean grinned.

Derek shook his head again and smiled as the older man made good on his promise. When they finally separated again, Derek’s visage slowly returned to an unspoken question.

Dean placed a hand on Derek’s chest, over his heart. It was an absentminded but surprisingly gentle gesture, as was the note of concern. “What?” he asked gruffly.

“Nothing,” Derek smiled. “I just saw Sam driving away when I got here. Where was he headed this early?”

The Hunter visibly relaxed when he realized nothing was wrong. “Just checking out a lead,” he said. He started to say on a case, but he knew Derek would immediately hear the uptick of his heartbeat, revealing the lie.

Derek scowled at him, but Dean pulled him closer. “It’s nothing major, and stop it. He told me it was most likely nothing, but he wanted to give us some time alone.”

The younger werewolf didn’t resist much, settling into the embrace, seemingly placated by his mate’s words. “That’s why he was leaving at this hour then? Long drive ahead of him?”

“Portland,” Dean smiled.

Derek smiled back. “That means he’s going to be gone for a few days, then. You sure you’ll be okay that long without your Baby?”

Dean chuckled. “You’ve got your Camaro here if we need wheels. But who says I’m going anywhere?” he asked, pulling Derek’s shirt over his head. “I’ve got a crazy hot werewolf in front of me who somehow got even sexier by bringing me food.”

“Sam can have the car. You’re my Baby now,” he grinned, unbuttoning Derek’s jeans without any complaint or protest. When he shoved his hand down the other man’s fly, he purred into the pureblood’s neck. “I don’t have any intentions of going anywhere right now. I have everything I need right _here_.”

Dean’s touch caused Derek to writhe in his grasp with a smile. “Where’s Jackson?”

“Really? I’m trying to seduce you, and you mention my brother? Aside from some fetish fantasy, it’s kind of a mood-killer,” Dean laughed. When he got that patented Sour-Wolf glower, laughed even harder. “Gone back to Beacon Hills to see Stiles.”

Derek cocked an eyebrow. “So we have the whole place to ourselves?”

“We do.”

The claws came out—literally—and Derek slashed open Dean’s shirt.

“Hey! I liked that shirt!” he protested.

Derek cocked one side of his mouth up in a half-smile. “Hope you’re not overly sentimental about the pants.”


	2. Choice and Cluelessness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-coital feels with talk of relationships past and present, and mentions of unrequited love. Completely touch-feely drivel :)

When Derek woke the next morning, he was greeted to a very awake, very naked, and very horny Dean, holding a bottle of beer in his hand. The pureblood grimaced, glancing over at the clock. “It’s seven am, Dean. I don’t want a beer.”

“Which is why you get that, Sourwolf,” the Hunter chuckled, pointing at the bottle of water on the nightstand. “The cerveza is mine.”

Derek, also naked, sat up and dropped his feet over the side of the bed. His mate’s lack of an attempt to rouse him for sex meant the arousal he had noted was typical morning wood rather than actual desire. Not that there was any difficulty in that department. After Sam hit the road yesterday, they’d had sex at least a dozen times. Dean had told him Sam wanted them to have time alone to get to know one another, so yesterday was a fail on that score, if a rousing (pun intended) success otherwise. “How are you so awake? I’m worn out.”

“I’m good like that,” Dean boasted proudly, taking a swig from the bottle. “Actually, I’m tired enough that I don’t even want to take advantage of you right now. Give me a few, though. Just looking at you is getting me in the mood.”

Derek growled. “You’re changing the subject.”

Dean shrugged. “Hunting doesn’t allow for much of a set sleeping pattern. I’m used to passing out when I can and waking up to the first sound or sensation of something being off. Imagine what that’s like with werewolf senses.”

“I’ve never really thought about what that’s like for you,” Derek admitted. “I was born this way, so there was no real adjustment period. I kind of grew into them at puberty the same way I grew into a changing body… mine just changed a bit more than my classmates.”

“That’s part of what we argue about,” Dean reminded him. “I like me the way I was. I don’t want to have to adjust. Being a werewolf is mostly great and all, but I don’t feel like me.”

The revelation was a bit more honest—and understandable—than Derek wanted to admit. “And that’s why you want to see if there’s a way to undo the bite?”

Dean nodded. “I know you see it like it’s some sort of slight against you and all, but, and don’t knee-jerk into saying something until I finish, this doesn’t have anything to do with you. This is all about me, and I know that sounds like some break-up speech.”

“More than a little bit,” Derek acknowledged, a little hurt, but less than he would have been even a few moments ago.

Dean moved next to Derek on the bed. He ran his hands through the pureblood’s hair and pulled them close, until their foreheads were pressed together. “I’m not a born werewolf,” the Hunter began. “I don’t have the slightest understanding about mating or anything like that, at least not in the way you do. What I do know is how I feel about you, and the mating aspect certainly heightens that, but I felt something for you from pretty much the moment I met.”

“How do you know it’s enough?” Derek asked, not daring to meet the other man’s gaze.

Dean smiled. “You’re going to make me get all cliché here, but I know it in my heart. Contrary to what my brother believes, I wasn’t completely ignorant of being with a guy before you. It’s just that I was always drawn to women more strongly, not that my track record with them is all that much better.”

“I can relate,” Derek smiled back. “But now?”

“Now, I’m having feelings stronger than I’ve ever felt with anyone. The mate bond intensifies them, but I remember them there before I was bitten. As much as I want to be just me again, I meant it when I told you I would drop this completely before I let it hurt you. I meant it then, and I mean it now,” Dean told him honestly.

Derek’s cheeked flush a little bit with feelings of guilt and shame. “I don’t want you to sacrifice being _you_ for me. I’m just scared that the one I want to be with for the rest of my life won’t feel the same way. Just thought of it terrifies me.”

“I love you, Derek, and I don’t say that easily.” He grinned, “Actually, I do, but I don’t mean it. The strongest relationship I’ve ever had in my life was with a woman who doesn’t even remember me because I asked Cas to let her forget me to keep her safe. Her son was like my son. Hell, he might have even _been_ my son.”

Derek cut his eyes towards him. “You’re not making me feel better here.”

Dean chuckled. “What I’m trying to tell you is that I felt the same connection with you when we met as I did with her… only stronger. I’m a bit of a dumbass at times, so things are much clearer to me in retrospect than they were at the time. Even if we weren’t mates tomorrow, I would still love you,” he told him. “Any skips or upticks in my heartbeat just now?”

Derek smiled softly and shook his head. “No.”

“Which means…?” he teased, playfully punching Derek in the shoulder.

“Which means you’re telling the truth.”

“Which means I’m telling the truth,” he grinned. “Wanna know what else?”

Derek raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Dean didn’t speak either, just pushing Derek back onto the mattress with a deep kiss.

 

When they awoke after making love, Dean was eyeing Derek curiously when the latter awoke. “What?” the pureblood asked. “And stop staring at me when I sleep. It’s fucking creepy.”

“Yeah. I suppose it is at that,” Dean laughed. “I actually wasn’t staring, at least not intentionally. More off into space and all that while my mind wandered.”

Derek contemplated a smartass remark like “short trip”, but the Hunter was being uncharacteristically sincere to a degree that he seldom saw outside of his dealings with his brothers. “Okay, whatever’s on your mind, just say it or ask it.”

“Have you ever had feelings for a guy before?”

Derek hesitated. “Had them or acted upon them?”

Dean considered it a moment. “Either-or,” he answered.

“Yes and no, respectively,” he answered, turning away from his mate’s scrutiny.

“Who was it?” Dean asked.

There it was. It was a question he didn’t have an answer for. Well, he did, but not one he wanted to share. “It’s not important,” Derek told him quietly.

“You realize I can tell you’re lying right now, right?”

“If I ask you to let this go, will you?” the pureblood asked.

Dean gleefully shook his head. “Not a snowball’s chance in Hell. I’m laying my heart on the line with you in a way that I’ve made a lifetime career of not doing, so I want a name.”

Derek rolled his eyes and growled.

“Trying to play the big, bad Alpha doesn’t work with me, Sourwolf,” the Hunter grinned… and that’s when he heard it. “Oh… my… God!”

“What?” Derek asked nervously.

“When I called you that. That’s when I heard it,” he said. “I always thought the nickname was funny… from the first moment I heard _Stiles_ call you that.”

Derek winced as though he’d been punched. He turned to face Dean. “Stiles,” he admitted. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing,” Dean told him. “I just think of the pack you run with, he’s not an obvious choice. Wanna explain?”

“Explain what?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Well, for starters, why him? He’s not a bad-looking kid by any stretch of the imagination, but it just seems like some of the others would have been more likely contenders. Most would probably consider Scott more attractive. Isaac’s got those sculpted features. That deputy? Parrish? He’s got a rock hard body and an ass you could bounce a quarter off of. Even, and as much as it grosses me out to admit it, there’s Jackson. My brother’s definitely got that Abercrombie & Fitch model look going on.”

Derek shrugged. “I genuinely don’t know. It sort of hit me all at once. When Jackson was the Kanima, he had paralyzed me and I was cornered, in a swimming pool, about to drown to death. Stiles literally swam with me in his arms, keeping my head above water, for hours.”

“Florence Nightingale Syndrome,” Dean nodded. “Makes sense. He saved you, and that tends to be a strong foundation for feelings, even if misplaced.”

“It’s more than that,” Derek told him. “I terrified him to that point. I didn’t like him—or at least I didn’t think I did—and he definitely didn’t like me. But when push came to shove, he risked life and limb for me. The act was noteworthy enough, but I guess I really saw his heart at that time. The selfless courage and all. I guess I really do have a type.”

When he realized Derek was staring at him, it was Dean’s turn to blush. “Why didn’t you say something to him?”

“Well, being illegal was probably first and foremost,” he grinned. “He was underage. Not to mention, his father has a gun, and thanks to Chris Argent, a stockpile of wolf’s bane bullets.”

Dean roared in laughter at that. “Well, the latter’s probably still a valid reason, but the first one doesn’t apply anymore. He’s eighteen, right?”

“Yes, but it hardly matters. Stiles is straight. He was in love with Lydia, and then with Malia,” Derek reminded him.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “And the entirety of your relationships before me were, and let me know if I leave one out, Paige, Kate, Jennifer, and Braeden. That didn’t stop you and I from doing things a little while ago that were considered illegal in most Southern states only a few decades ago, and last time I checked, I was a guy.”

Derek snorted. “You are most definitely a guy, but you and I are different because….”

“Because of the mate bond?” Dean interrupted.

_Checkmate_. “Yeah, because of the mate bond,” he was forced to admit. “Was that why you brought up the straight teenaged boy I have a crush on? To make a point?”

“Not at all,” Dean told him. “I do it so I can ask you a question. Do you still have the crush on him?’

Derek nodded.

“But you’re my mate?”

He nodded again.

“Is it all because of the bond?”

“No,” Derek shook his head. “I was attracted to you when I first met you. Like you, I just didn’t realize what it was right away. The mate bond just made it stronger.”

“Then why does the talk of me not being a werewolf bother you so much?” Dean asked, genuinely trying to understand.

Derek turned away. “Because I can’t stop being a werewolf. I don’t want to keep loving you if you don’t love me. I won’t have a choice.”

“Love is seldom a choice,” Dean told him, taking him hand and entwining their fingers. “I will _always_ choose to love you if it is.”

Derek leaned over to kiss him before resting his head on Dean’s shoulder. He could feel the vibrato of the Hunter’s laugh. “Even if you are an oblivious pedo-wolf.”

The pureblood swatted Dean’s thigh and pulled away before he thought about the words. “You mean oblivious to you loving me regardless?” he asked.

“Nope,” Dean smiled.

“Then what?” Derek prodded.

Dean just laughed. “If you really think Stiles is 100% straight and not attracted to you, your werewolf senses need a tune-up.”


	3. Rehashing the Past

“If I promise never to make a big deal out of you wanting to find a cure, can we never mention _that_ again?” Derek asked, not willing to look Dean in the eye.

The Hunter had a ridiculously broad smile on his face. “Not a chance, Romeo.”

“ _Dean_ ,” the pureblood growled, eyes glowing red.

Dean just made his flare crimson in return. “You do realize that doesn’t scare me in the least, right?”

Derek’s shoulders slumped, crestfallen. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Then we don’t,” Dean told him, placing a hand on either shoulder. He massaged the tense muscles he found there as he buried his nose in Derek’s hair. “I’m a smartass, often a dick, but you know I love you. If this bothers you that much to talk about, then the conversation is done.”

Derek fell back into his mate’s embrace, pulling Dean’s arms around him. “How do you do that?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Do what?”

“You asked me to just accept that you wanted to stop being a werewolf, and I couldn’t let it go. I ask you not to mention this—whatever it is—with Stiles, and you just do. How do you do that?” he asked sincerely.

Dean loosed a soft chuckle. “Wisdom that came with age. You do realize how much older I am than you, right?”

Derek turned within the Hunter’s hold. “Really? That’s all you got? It’ll get better with time?”

“Not even close,” Dean told him. “I mean I’ve had years of doing all of this wrong. I’ve fucked up every relationship I’ve ever had. My Dad. Everyone I’ve ever dated. Sam. God, if you only knew how bad Sam and I have been for one another pretty much since I dragged him away from Stanford a decade ago.”

Derek faced forward again and rested his cheek against Dean’s. “You’ve told me.”

“I’ve given you Cliffs Notes. Sam and I go from best friends to toxic constantly,” Dean admitted. Then he smiled. “I’m trying to break the cycle.”

“You guys seem pretty good right now,” the pureblood commented.

Dean nodded. “We’re in a good place right now. A lot of that has to do with you. You’re good for me, and Sammy sees that. He knows me better than anyone.”

Derek sighed in contentment. “Why do I feel like such a woman when you say things like that?”

“Cause you’re a big ole woman,” Dean smiled. “Those aren’t balls down there. They’re ovaries.”

“You seem to like those _ovaries_ ,” Derek chuckled.

Dean shook his head. “I like what they’re attached to.” He extricated himself from his mate, lying onto his side before pulling the other werewolf down next to him. “I know what you mean, though. With all the rage and everything, you’d think being like this would be nothing but a testosterone-fest. Instead, every emotion seems heightened.”

“It’s the mate bond,” Derek explained. “You never got to be a werewolf without it. It pretty much is the testosterone-fest normally. The mate bond helps to settle us. Makes us content, but territorial. Protective.”

Dean grunted. “I’m already protective enough. Family has always come first for me. For the longest time, that was just Sam. Now I’ve got Jackson.”

Derek nodded. “For the longest time, I thought giving him the Bite was a mistake, even discounting the whole murderous Kanima thing. Kind of glad you never got to see the old him. You would have probably killed him.”

“I _was_ the old him,” Dean laughed. “No money. No lacrosse. No Porsche. But the arrogance? The resentment? The family issues? I can relate. But he has a family now.”

“He’s been so different since he got back, but even more so since he learned the truth about you guys. You and Sam…,” he began, hesitating to conclude, “… and Stiles.”

Dean didn’t react to the mention of his half-brother’s half-brother in the least. Instead, he shook his head. “Us, yes, but that wasn’t the family I was talking about. I mean the pack… you. They’re family to him, just like they’re family to me. You, however? You’re not family to me. You’re more. You’re a part of me.”

Derek couldn’t restrain himself. It felt cliché, but it was like Dean’s words ignited something in him. He pushed his mate onto the mattress, pinning his arms to either side as he kissed him. For the umpteenth time, they made love.

 

When Derek awoke late, he wasn’t surprised to find that Dean was already awake. He was pleasantly surprised that the Hunter wasn’t watching him sleep. He was staring at the ceiling. “What’s going on in your head, Winchester?”

Dean grinned and turned to look at the pureblood. “You tell me, Dr. _Hale_. You seem to be an expert.”

“On you?” Derek raised an eyebrow. “Not even close. But I know when something’s rattling around in that skull of yours.”

“I actually have a question,” Dean told him.

Derek propped up on one elbow. “So ask.”

Dean nodded. “Don’t overreact, because this has nothing to do with that, but….”

“ _Ask_ ,” Derek repeated.

“It’s about Stiles.”

The born werewolf growled.

Derek slapped the younger man’s hairy chest with the back of his hand. “Cut that shit out, Sou…,” he let the nickname drop, knowing that wasn’t helping his case. “I said that wasn’t what this was about. Technically, it’s not about Stiles, at least not directly.”

“For the love of _God_! Will you just ask already?”

“Something Sam said about Claudia before he left. He said to ask you what Stiles has told you about her. He didn’t have time to go into it. It got me curious. Hunter mode and all that,” Dean told him.

Derek sat up. “It sounds like Stiles told Sam about it, so I guess I’m okay to talk about it. When Stiles was younger, his mother had a psychotic break. Hearing voices. Paranoia, up to and including thinking her son—Stiles, to clarify—was trying to kill her. She killed herself in front of him.”

“Damn,” Dean commented. “That’s rough on a young kid.”

“Says the guy whose mother burned to death on a ceiling thanks to a yellow-eyed demon,” Derek pointed out. “Just saying you haven’t exactly had it easy, either. But you and Stiles both turned out okay.”

Dean grew silent, and Derek could swear he heard gears turning. When the Hunter could sense he was being watched, he spoke. “Those are the same symptoms Stiles had when the Nogitsune was creeping to the surface, right?”

“With her, it was caused by something called frontotemporal lobar degeneration, a shrinkage of the brain that leads to dementia and death. Lydia said it was sometimes called Pick’s Disease,” the pureblood responded, obviously curious. “And?”

Dean explained. “Something doesn’t add up. If Claudia was as powerful of a druid or emissary or whatever as all accounts point to, it’s unlikely that her knowledge of natural magic couldn’t have stopped it. Discounting that, Stiles having those same symptoms without the biologic cause seems highly coincidental… especially since those are also symptoms of demonic possession.”

“Okay,” Derek conceded. “Since we’re speculating, shouldn’t a powerful emissary be able to keep herself from being possessed?”

“Depends on the demon,” Dean told him. “What works on most doesn’t necessarily work on all of them. Believe me. Sam and I have learned that lesson the hard way.”

Derek was waiting on a follow-up. “Why do you look like you’re working a case?”

“Because I think I am now, and obviously Sam does, too; otherwise, he wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

The born werewolf stood and walked to the dresser to grab some clothes.

“What are you doing?” Dean pouted.

“Working a case, apparently.”

Dean crawled, literally, out of the bed and eased up behind Derek before biting him on the ass. “It’s like a decade-old case. There’s no hurry if, you know, you wanted to do something else first,” he smirked provocatively.

Derek turned around and looked down at his mate with his own smirk. “Some _thing_?”

“Whatever,” Dean smiled, pulling his mate down on top of him and into a kiss.


End file.
